


Incognito

by lotus0kid



Category: Heroes (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, M/M, Notorious
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-09-26
Updated: 2010-09-26
Packaged: 2019-03-01 05:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotus0kid/pseuds/lotus0kid
Summary: Notorious-inspired AU set chronologically in S1, in which a past schism pits the Company against Primatech. To prevent Primatech from destroying New York City, Company agent Peter Petrelli enlists ex-agent Claude Rains.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The talented [](https://amethystshard.livejournal.com/profile)[**amethystshard**](https://amethystshard.livejournal.com/) has provided illustrations, to be found [HERE](http://amethystshard.livejournal.com/60243.html).

_... In other news, the body discovered in a sewage pipe along the East River early Thursday morning has been identified as that of a man declared missing over ten years ago. Police state that they are the remains of Haram Sarkis, a former employee of Primatech Paper Company. The cause of death is currently unknown, but the investigation is still ongoing..._

“Sea, sea, sea-si _ders_! Sea, sea, sea-si _ders_!” It’s a combination of the crowd’s already considerable inebriation and that of the man whipping them into a frenzy that has the chant reverberating off the bar’s brick walls. Claude Rains gallops among them, arms swinging like a mad conductor and eyes just as wild. “Sea, sea, sea-si _ders_! Sea, sea, sea-si _ders_!”

He lurches to a stop in the middle of the bar, holds his arms out wide, and bellows a solo with his eyes squeezed shut, “Blackpool are back, Blackpool are back! Hello, hello! Blackpool are back!” Claude rocks backwards slightly and almost topples over, his eyes popping open. It’s then that he spots the one person not chanting.

A pair of dark eyes watches him over a half-empty bottle of beer.

He staggers over to them, hand slapping down on the booth table. “What?”

The eyes blink.

A wave of nausea hits Claude like a bucket of filthy water. He leans heavily against the table and his free hand rises to his forehead as he swears. “Y’got a car, mate? ‘S a million bloody degrees in here.”

The world loses focus for a while, until he finds himself slumped in a passenger seat, forehead now blessedly cool where it presses against the window. He squints over at Mister Watchful, who for once has those eyes of his on the road.

It occurs to him vaguely that this isn’t in fact a good situation he’s put himself in. “Stop. Stop th’car. Lemme out.”

His driver does so, pulling over to the side of the road and unlocking the doors. Claude wrenches his open and staggers out onto the sidewalk. He blinks up at the trees before him, nods at nothing in particular, and heads off in their direction. He quickly finds a hip-high stone wall rudely blocking his path, so, using it as a crutch, he trudges on until he reaches a gap. The sky opens up above him, a crescent moon floating in the air accompanied by a couple tiny pricks of light. He makes it about twenty feet when a voice behind him says, “This is Central Park.”

The blinding obviousness of this statement brings Claude to a halt as he tries to figure out a suitably scathing retort.

Unfortunately it doesn’t materialize before the voice continues, “You’re not living here, are you?”

That’s rich. We can’t all be bodiless voices, wandering at will. Some of us need places to sleep off massive amounts of alcohol, even if that place isn’t more than the space between two tree roots, and will leave us dew-covered and shivering come morning. Claude means to say all this- though maybe not the last part- but somewhere between his brain and his mouth it devolves into, “Yeah. So?”

“Come on, come with me. You don’t have to stay out here.”

That’s confusing enough to make Claude turn around very carefully. He discovers the bodiless voice has somehow found a home. “Mister Watchful... where’d you come from?”

He smiles, and Claude watches his lower lip pull strangely to the right. “My place. On Lincoln.” He cocks his head, “Come on, let’s go.”

Claude laughs- a low, almost bleating sound. He sidles closer and drops his forearms on Mister Watchful’s shoulders. “You in the market for an old, drunken fool, friend?” he breathes in his face with a leer.

To his credit, Mister Watchful doesn’t flinch. In fact, he smiles again. “Something like that.”

His eyes are black in the gloom, barely catching the light of distant lamps along the park’s path. Claude wishes like hell the thick alcoholic haze would clear from his head. “What… what’s your name?”

“I’m Peter. I work for the Company.”

The world tilts and blurs again. Later, Claude will recall taking a swing at the other man, and nothing else.


	3. Incognito

Peter and Claude fall into step on the street, and Peter heads toward a corner to hail a cab. It’s busy with the mid-morning rush, people and cars alike streaming past.

“So I never asked,” Claude says, speaking close to Peter’s ear. “Are you one of us or one of them?”

Peter’s surprised it took him this long. He keeps his eyes on the traffic, his hand in the air, as he replies. “One of us.”

“Oh yeah? What can you do, then?” He sounds genuinely interested.

“What do you think?” Peter stalls.

“Hm,” he imagines Claude’s studying look. “Well, ya’ found me sure enough, that has to narrow it down some. Said you could do it again too. Don’t seem the type for one of the more destructive abilities...”

“They have a type?”

“More like a look. Either look right nervous all the time, or like the biggest baddest bastard who ever lived.”

“I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“If you like. In any case, my guess is a mental ability, so what is it? Telepathy? Precognition? Or maybe just a simple finder- a strong one, since we never met before now. Am I close?”

“You’re close,” Peter says, as he leans out over the curb and waves emphatically for a cab. One stops- ten feet further down the street, for a man in a trench coat and Burberry scarf carrying a briefcase. Peter frowns and sighs, and jumps when Claude grabs his arm and pulls him toward the cab. “What are you doing?”

“Getting on with it,” Claude simply says. He gets within a few feet of the man, and kicks him in the back of the knee. The man yelps and goes down while Claude slides into the cab. “Get in, Pete,” he calls, “before this all becomes very awkward indeed.”

Peter has frozen, staring stunned at the man clambering back to a standing position with a hand on his injured leg and bewildered moans of “What the hell was that?” on his lips. He realizes they’ve been invisible this whole time. For lack of a really persuasive reason not to, he gets in, stammering out, “You- you just-”

“Stole us a cab,” Claude grins. “It’s not easy, that. You gotta time it just right. So, tell the nice driver where it is we’re headed, won’t you?”

“Uh, Kirby... Kirby Plaza, please?”

If the driver noticed the assault and theft of his cab perpetrated by one fare on another while the former was invisible, he doesn’t care. “Sure thing,” he replies, and they’re off.

“So, you say telepathy, precognition, and finding are all close. Interesting. Can I have a hint or is that cheating?”

“I’m an empath,” Peter says, suddenly tired of the game. He doesn’t want to, but he looks at Claude to see his reaction.

He’s surprised, clearly. “Oh, empathy,” he says, “D’you take abilities or copy ‘em?”

“Copy.”

“Okay. You got more than one or-?”

“I can hold on to one at a time.”

“Good, that’s good. Got control sorted, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Thankfully, Claude reads the end of the conversation in Peter’s tone, and quiets down.

***

The Company’s offices in Kirby Plaza are clean and well-lit, full of people at desks and on phones. Few take notice of Peter and Claude when they arrive. Peter shows his guest around without hesitation, taking him from the offices down to the exercise rooms and the labs. Claude questions the last, recalling Peter’s earlier assertion that the Company had done away with experimentation.

“Never without consent, and no invasive procedures under any circumstances.”

Claude just gives a “yeah, sure” hum, and they carry on. So far, he must admit, any of the old moral grayness in this new Company is well hidden, and there’s little that can hide from an invisible man. He certainly intends to take a solo tour himself as soon as he can, but for now he can’t go wandering off. Peter has led him to a glass-walled conference room, in which several people wait. They all look very serious, and some very familiar.

“Were you right?” Charles Deveaux asks Claude.

“Was I right about what, Charles?”

The elderly man in the wheelchair just gives him a look.

Claude lets his eyes wander over the faces of Nakamura Kaito and Angela Petrelli. “Yeah, I was.”

Charles’ face splits into a warm smile. “We’re all glad to see you again, my friend.”

_Can’t tell by the looks of those two_ , Claude wants to say. But he just shrugs, “Cheers, I suppose.”

“And I suppose you’d like to know just what the heck we’re bothering you for, after so long.”

“Could do. This one over here,” he nods over his shoulder at Peter, “has got cryptic just about down to an art form. I gather the rest of the merry band didn’t see eye to eye with your new philosophy and made a go of it themselves, or was it the other way round?”

“The philosophy never changed, they did,” Angela says, “When we tried to get things back on course, they resisted. Now we believe they have something much more than resistance in mind.”

Claude squints at her, gears turning, “Hang on a minute. There’s the cryptic again. Now I know where he gets it,” he looks over his shoulder, “Peter Petrelli.”

The empath flinches before he can deliver a hard stare.

Claude gives him the same curious squint. “Son of Angela’s a son of Arthur, am I right?”

“Two sons, actually,” comes a new voice. Claude turns to one of the people he didn’t recognize. A man in his late thirties wearing a sharply tailored suit, whose smile is far too even and white to be pleasant. “I’m Nathan Petrelli.”

“Charmed,” Claude sneers. “Is it really very important for me to learn all your names, or can we get on with things?”

Kaito scowls even more deeply. “Impatient. Famous for disobeying orders and undermining the mission. He has loyalty to no one.”

Claude grins, “Famous? Hey, d’ya hear that, Pete?” He casts a glance backwards to see Peter’s warning look.

“Kaito, we discussed this,” Charles says. “Claude is in the ideal position to make this work. It’s got to be him.”

Claude interrupts another protest from Kaito by saying, “This has all been very flattering. I’d love to hear more of it, such as what it is that I’m so ideal for it can only be done by me.”

“You’re right, Claude, no more stalling,” Charles replies, face gone grave. “Recently our precogs have all been having the same vision. Dr. Suresh...”

He nods to a South Asian man who brings up from his lap a rolled sheet of white canvas, which he lays out on the table. It’s a painting of the New York City skyline less than a second from being destroyed by a massive explosion, mushroom cloud rising black and orange behind the buildings.

“This will happen, Claude,” Charles intones, “But we don’t know how. Try as we might, the only other information we’ve been able to glean from the visions is that Primatech will be responsible. Our double agent is currently under suspicion. He’s not going to be able to uncover these plans. But you... you’re an unknown quantity, Claude. No one really knows the specifics of your termination. No one knows where your loyalty lies. And no one we know of has your abilities. So, in the interest of keeping New York in one piece, we’re asking for your help. All we need to know is how they plan to do this.”

Claude has nothing to say. There’s no arguing with the painting, no writing off the grim faces around him as fake. Nothing lies before him but a terrible choice and an impossible task. _What else is new?_

And then there’s a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, let’s get some air.”

Claude decides he’s not above being led out of the room like an invalid. Or having a cup of steaming coffee pressed into his hand after being deposited on a stone bench outside of the building. He wonders if this was a calculated move as his gaze drifts over the plaza, with its large round fountain and tiered orange sculpture, and the people walking briskly through it or seated at tables outside a café. Is he meant to be imagining it all turned to ash if he doesn’t do exactly what he would never under any circumstances want to do?

“Claude, look at me.”

Peter, sitting beside him with his own coffee. Peter, who still has a smile for him. It’s quietly miraculous. “You don’t have to do this.”

Claude scowls, “Right. I believe you.”

“There could be another way,” Peter protests, “The precogs, they could have another vision. They could tell us everything we need to-”

“If they were gonna find out, they would’ve by now. We both know that.”

Peter looks down, chastised, “Sorry. I’m just- I’d just like to make this a little easier.”

“Well ya’ can’t do that, friend,” Claude hears himself snarl. “There’s nothin’ easy, fair, or nice about this whole mess. And even them up there,” he jerks his head towards the Company’s building, “They’d just love it if I bolted, wouldn’t they? Waiting for it, aren’t they? Forget the fact _they_ came to _me_ for help, it’s blatantly obvious I’m as welcome in their beautiful new organization as a flu virus.”

“That’s not true.”

“No? Fine then, name a single person back there who thought I was worth the air I breathed.”

“Me.”

Claude’s already inhaled to let loose the next sharp retort, but it sticks in his throat.

“You’re not gonna be alone in this, Claude. I won’t let you.”

The moment stretches as every sarcastic reply withers, leaving only a painful swell of shocked gratitude and the palm-itching desire to take hold of Peter and kiss the living daylights out of him. Claude valiantly refrains. Tears his eyes away from Peter’s instead, and fixes them on the concrete between his feet with a cough.

“You, uh... are you done with that?” Peter gestures at Claude’s coffee cup, which he hands over. No point drinking something hot when it already feels like he’s got embers in his stomach.

Claude can only find his voice when Peter is safely out of arm’s reach and on his way to a trash can. “Better mean it, Pete. Other people... haven’t. In the past.”

And then Peter’s there, crouched in front of him like in his room, and while his hands don’t thread through Claude’s hair, they do hold his empty ones. “I know. And I do. Okay?”

He does. It’s written all over his face, in the darkness of his eyes and Claude’s about ready to surrender because he’s not a fucking _saint_ when those eyes blink. Retreat.

Peter stands with an awkward laugh and a hand scratching at the back of his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get all... Um, anyway, are you ready to go back inside?”

Every cell in Claude’s body is humming. The last thing in the world he wants to do is go back in that room with those people. He tells himself Peter will be there, and stands.


	4. Chapter 4

Peter’s eyes dart to Claude on their way back to the office, even though it makes embarrassment churn in his stomach.

He’s such an idiot sometimes. Claude Rains is a grown man, who definitely doesn’t need the ham-fisted comfort Peter spouted outside. He needs a partner, an equal. Peter wishes once again that Haram was here. To reunite him and Claude- _that_ would’ve been... right. Good. There wouldn’t be half the suspicion and mistrust being projected across the table from Peter’s mother and Kaito. And Nathan, and Mohinder, and Matt. The last is obviously still trying to read Claude’s thoughts, even though he’s been told they’re as invisible as the man can make himself. It’s just one of the things about Claude that has fascinated Peter since Haram had first started talking about him.

Now that Peter knows Haram never contacted Claude, he figures the stories were Haram’s way of easing the strain of leaving his partner in the shark tank he’d escaped, and then knowing he’d been executed, believing he was dead. Haram wasn’t really thinking about the effect they would have on a rookie agent who barely had control of his just-manifested empathy.

Claude became everything Peter strived to be in the Company. And one day, he sat down with the stories in his head, a photograph, a map, and his brand new finding ability. It was just an exercise- he would’ve liked to tell Haram where Claude’s body was, if he could. He never expected to find the man, living and breathing, going about his day a few hundred miles off. Peter thinks he understands Haram’s reaction to the news better now- more resignation than happiness, a nod and a smile and a “Good work, Peter.” Claude made it out alive. Haram had an even better reason to keep his distance.

Peter, on the other hand, couldn’t resist. He kept track of Claude. Not all the time, just every now and then, when he wanted to practice his finding. It was a good challenge because the man was always moving.

When Arthur came for Peter, Claude was exactly 781.23 miles away. Peter was never truly scared until Arthur stole his abilities and he couldn’t reach out to that other life, safe and separate from all this. It wasn’t too long before the tumult of his rescue distracted him. But his heart ached when he discovered the new restrictions of his empathy.

The man’s sitting right beside him, nodding along to what knowledge the Company can provide on Primatech. Peter has to help him through this. He has to keep him safe. He has to return the favor. _I_ have _to stop leering at him, for Christ’s sake._ He blames Haram’s old photograph, which did almost no justice to Claude in the flesh, even with a heavy beard and stained clothes. When those eyes were staring straight to the bottom of him down on the bench outside, it was all Peter could do to only hold his hands. He needs to focus.

“Eric Thompson will be your way in,” Nathan is saying.

Claude snorts, “Stayed in middle-management, did he? Or is he your cock-up of a double agent?”

“He’s not the double agent. That would be Noah Bennet.”

Peter spots tension ripple through Claude’s body and hides a wince of his own, wondering if Nathan knows who carried out Claude’s execution or not. “Two-faced, as always,” he hears Claude mutter.

“He’ll be keeping a low profile for this, trying to salvage his cover. In any case, your job will be to tail Thompson until you can find out what Primatech is hiding. If you’re lucky, it shouldn’t take more than a week.”

“That’d be a first, but this seems simple enough. When do we start?”

“You’re on a plane to Costa Verde, California, tonight. That’s where Primatech’s headquartered these days.”

“Right, Peter’s comin’ along.”

A bolt of heat shoots through the empath’s stomach at the words, and his eyes join all the others that focus sharply on Claude.

Nathan blinks, and sets his smile to appeasement. “Mister Rains, we were planning to partner you with a more experienced agent, someone who came from Primatech.”

“Duly noted, I want Peter. He’s my partner or I walk right now. Once I’m outside the blast radius this is really none of my concern.”

Nathan cocks his head with a sly squint. “You really expect us to believe you’d let New York be destroyed if we don’t comply?”

“Do you want to find out the hard way?”

Peter swallows, looking from his brother’s face to Claude’s profile and back. Both are stony and unreadable. He looks to Nathan, whose gaze is now on him. Measuring, doubting, and something in Peter starts to burn, but he says nothing. Finally, a thoughtful frown and gaze briefly dropped to his lap before returning to Claude, “Okay. Peter will be your point of contact. Communication should be kept to an absolute minimum, only come to him when you have what we need or if you have no other choice, understand?”

“Cheers.”

And that’s that. Peter beats down the automatic clench in his stomach with the small smile Claude shoots him.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Peter’s been sulking since they left for the airport.

No, not sulking. That’s not quite the word when a clear edge of anger lurks under the heavy silence. Claude traces it back to Nathan Petrelli wrapping a hand over Peter’s shoulder and shepherding him into an office where he shut the door. After they emerged, Peter’s sober, keen focus was sapped to this- brooding, that’s the word. Sour-faced and terse. Claude doesn’t like it one bit, for many reasons.

He manages to hold his peace until they’re seated on the plane. “Look, mate, they say this might only take a week, but I promise it’ll seem a helluva lot longer if you’re going to keep up the sullen adolescent act.”

Peter turns to him, and the riot of embarrassment, indignation, and remorse on his face is more than enough to make Claude grin.

“So, I suppose it’s still my line,” he continues, “Ready? Here it comes... Do you want to talk about it?”

That conjures up a smile and a laugh from Peter, however small, and Claude feels a swell of something more than a little like relief. “I...” he sighs, “Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything most certainly is not fine,” Claude counters, “We’re flying across the country to stop some baddies from turning New York City into a smoking crater. Now, I’m your partner, and you’re mine. I need to know what’s goin’ on in that head of yours.”

The amusement slips away as Peter looks at him, eyes sad as he says, “You shouldn’t have picked me, Claude. I’m... There are a lot of other agents, and... I’m not who you should’ve picked.”

“Well, Peter, you’re the one who said I wouldn’t be alone in this. I wasn’t about to let anyone else keep me company.”

He frowns in confusion. “Why?”

Claude clenches his jaw against saying that Peter is the first trustworthy person he’s met in about a decade and how much that means to him. “Why not?” he asks instead.

Peter’s face shutters, the brooding reviving. “I’m not the most experienced. You should have the best support you can get- millions of people’s lives depend on it.”

“And why else? You were sent to find and retrieve an invisible man, keeping track of me until this is finished is _not_ outside your abilities as an agent.”

“You were right, they expect you to run,” Peter blurts out. “And they don’t expect me to be able to stop you.”

“And by ‘they’ you mean your brother, yeah? Why can’t you stop me?”

“I _can_ ,” he snaps, the anger less of an edge and more of a gleam. Claude lifts his eyebrows. “It’s just... last year, I was... I got captured, by Primatech. They took away my empathy, and all of the abilities I’d gotten with it. I used to be able to just absorb them. Anything anyone could do, I could too.”

“Autonomic.”

“Yeah. So, I couldn’t do anything. But there was this... stuff, they called it a catalyst. I took that, and I could hold one ability at a time. I just have to touch someone...”

His hand hovers over Claude’s where it holds the armrest. There aren’t words for how much he wants Peter to touch him before his fingers curl and the hand retreats.

“Uh, so... after that happened, I haven’t really been given assignments that would get me directly involved with Primatech. Everyone figured it would just be... easier.”

“And how long was that supposed to go on?”

He frowns and shrugs, sighs, “I don’t know, okay? Until now, I guess.”

“So you’re not just inexperienced, you’re out of practice,” Claude says, not unkindly.

Peter chuckles, “Pretty much. And that’s why you shouldn’t have picked me. Happy?”

Claude shrugs, “Well, I was hoping for a bad peanut allergy or some such, but...”

Peter snickers, though it fades quickly. “I’m not afraid of them, not really. It, you know- it happened, but I promise, it’s not going to affect my work.”

There’s the Peter Claude’s been getting to know, full to the brim with earnest determination. His hand is rising before he realizes it, the backs of his fingers brushing Peter’s jaw while his thumb runs over his chin. It takes a small gasp across his knuckles to make Claude snatch his hand back. He’s all set to nail his gaze to the seat in front of him for the duration of the flight, but Peter is looking at him. Eyes a little wide and very dark, a smile tugging at a corner of his mouth.

Claude does manage to tear his eyes away, with help from a flight attendant asking for drink orders, but it doesn’t do much to subdue the dizzy heat in his head and heart. _What was it dear Nathan said about luck? Right._

***

They find the sun-drenched park that’s been chosen as their meeting place. Conversation has stayed superficial, and Peter isn’t sure if he’s happy about that or not. He tries to take his cue from Claude, who is clearly gearing up for the official beginning of their assignment.

He must be, _he’s_ the one who will be going into the lion’s den while Peter sits safe and sound in a hotel room waiting for news. The thought makes his guts twist with a new kind of guilt and anxiety he really doesn’t need, but of course it’s far too late to whine about it now. It’s been too late since Peter tracked Claude down to that bar, since he first found him alive, since Haram gave Peter his picture.

“Right, so, what ability have you got now?”

Peter swallows. “Just finding. I guess I thought that’d be the most useful.” He puts his hands safely in his pockets.

“Yeah. You just... keep tabs on me, right? When- if you see I’m around here, come by.”

“Yeah, got it.”

“Are you weapons-trained?” Peter blinks in surprise, and Claude half-shrugs. “Just in case.”

Peter nods, “Uh huh.” Hides a grimace poorly.

“Okay. Should be off then. Interception’s supposed to be down the road a ways.”

“Yeah, okay.” Peter hasn’t risked looking at Claude any more than he has to, instead scanning the park for nothing in particular. But he looks now, wishing he wasn’t aware that this could be the last time he sees him.

Claude’s looking right back, and damn if Peter can’t imagine he’s thinking the same thing behind the carefully blank blue. He takes a step closer and Peter’s heart stutters. His hand rises, and Peter mentally begs it to touch his face again, but it lands on his shoulder instead.

“Good luck,” Peter says.

“And you.” The hand squeezes once and lets go. Claude turns and stalks away, fading out of sight as Peter fades back in. The empath takes a moment to breathe before heading on his way.


	6. Chapter 6

_Should’ve... should’ve, should’ve, should’ve..._ Claude doesn’t finish the sentence before his better sense cuts it off with reminders of just how stupid it would’ve been to act on the ludicrous feelings he’s slapped on to Peter. This entire situation is bad enough without adding all that to it, he’s _quite_ certain.

If ever there was a time for him to be a complete professional, this is it. Tailing his old boss, the man who ordered his death, through the bright streets of Costa Verde. _How big an explosion is this supposed to be again?_

One of the last helpful pieces of information Bennet was able to supply was Thompson’s fondness for getting coffee from a certain café most mornings, so Claude has a good place to begin his surveillance. Claude thinks Thompson must be getting lazy if he’s acquired a routine that leaves him so vulnerable. _Lazy, or confident_ , he muses.

He can’t deny that an element of good old-fashioned curiosity motivates his actions. How on Earth could Primatech raze a city the size of New York, or _any_ city for that matter? It’s enough to keep him following the other man, street after street, corner after corner.

Thompson turns off onto a less crowded street, and Claude tries to remember if they’re close to Primatech’s current address. He sees Thompson take out a cell phone and hold it to his ear.

“Hi, Claude, how ya been?” He freezes. Thompson walks a few more paces, but then stops as well, shifting his weight casually as he continues, “It’s been a long time. But not long enough for me to forget how it feels to be followed by an invisible man. It’s a singular experience- I’m a little hurt you’d think I wouldn’t remember. So? What are you doing in town?”

His tone is perfectly calm and friendly, as only Eric Thompson’s can be. Several options run through Claude’s head, but only one has the barest hope of keeping that bomb, or whatever it is, away from New York. “Heard you lot opened up shop out here. Needed t’get a little sun?”

Thompson shrugs. “Well, you’re British, I don’t expect you to understand. You know, it’s funny, Claude, but I really thought you were dead. So how’s that happen?”

“Got lucky. Thought I’d give us both a break, to think about what we’d done.”

Thompson’s smile never fades. But it widens now. “To see the error of our ways?”

“Yeah.”

“Well I think that’s just fantastic, Claude. And I know there are some people who would feel the same.”

“Let ‘em know for me then, eh?”

“I will, I will. And I’m sure we’ll be in touch soon, okay?”

“Fine.” Claude turns on his heel and leaves, his heart about to beat its way out of his ribcage. He has to get out of here. He has to find Peter.

Adrenaline carries him back through the city more than memory. He can hardly believe what he’s done. It’s almost impossible to imagine coming out of this alive. But if that’s the case, he decides there’s no reason to leave a “should’ve” behind.

He finds the hotel, and strides up to Peter’s room. The door opens before he even gets there, a dark head and puzzled expression leaning out, “Claude? What are you doing here? Is something wro-?”

That’s time enough for Claude to make it down the hallway, wrap his hands around Peter’s head, and kiss him. Cool relief trickles through panicked desire when hands come up to grip Claude’s shoulders and pull him into the room and closer to Peter, who arches against him and wraps strong arms around his neck.

They spend a long minute like that, squeezing each other tight as they trade kisses, until Peter separates them.

“O-okay,” he gasps, “That- this is... Okay, this is great, but what’s happening, Claude?”

The man badly wants to pull Peter to him again and see if he can’t forget everything for a little while. He heaves a deep sigh instead. “Thompson knew I was following him.”

“How?”

“By havin’ at least twenty years’ experience with Primatech and about ten of them with me. Stupid to think it’d be that easy.”

“Okay. Does he know _why_ you’re here?”

“No. Managed to distract him with something else.”

“Which would be the reason you’re still alive right now.”

“Probably, yeah. I... indicated I might be amenable to going back to Primatech.”

Peter stares at him. “And he believed you?”

Claude shrugs uncomfortably, “It’s complicated, all right? In any case, there aren’t many secret organizations who wouldn’t want the world’s only invisible man on their side.”

Peter absorbs this while staring into the middle distance. Eventually he looks back up at Claude with a soft smile. “You could’ve run, when he spotted you.”

“I suppose. Would’ve had ‘em after me for sure, though.”

He shakes his head. “You know how to hide. There’s a good chance they wouldn’t have found you.”

“But what about the Company? I’d not have gotten far with a finder like you on my tail.”

Peter’s eyes are warm and bright as he sidles closer to Claude. “You’re so sure I’d come after you if the Company told me to?”

“Could just take you with me,” Claude says in a charged murmur. “Anywhere we wanted to go.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere...” Peter closes the distance between them, his kisses slow but full of hunger, intoxicating. Claude sees no compelling reason whatsoever not to follow him to the bed.


	7. Chapter 7

 

His ringing cell phone ruthlessly pries Peter out of a post-orgasm coma. It’s an effort just to lift his head and try to squint the sleep from his eyes. It’s just plain cruel that he has to stand up and walk all the way across the room to access the pants pocket containing his phone.

Matters aren’t improved by Claude rolling over and sitting up, bracing his arms on the mattress and giving Peter a wholly unprofessional leer from beneath tousled hair.

“Hi, Nathan,” Peter says, desperately hoping he sounds normal.

“Peter, you sound a little hoarse, are you okay?”

He grimaces, and manages to tear his eyes away from Claude, who is now sliding out of the sheets. “I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“Has Claude contacted you in the last four hours?”

A pair of warm palms running over his shoulders and down his arms short-circuits his brain. “Uh...”

“Listen,” Nathan mercifully continues, “Bennet’s told us Thompson got wind of Claude.”

“Oh.” Claude’s mouth drops to Peter’s neck. “Oh...”

“Yeah, ‘oh,’ but we might have a solution. Thompson knows Claude’s in town, but he doesn’t know he’s working for us. So we’re thinking if he can get Thompson to believe he’s interested in going back to Primatech, he’d be in an even better position to access the information we need.”

“That... that’s good...” Nathan really doesn’t have to know Peter’s referring to Claude wrapping his arms around the empath’s waist and pressing his body from chin to ankle against him.

“Okay, so bring Claude in, explain the situation and the new plan. Have him call us for further instructions. Got it?”

“Uh huh... sure... Soon as I see him.” Peter twists in Claude’s arms to reach his mouth for a quickly given kiss.

The cell phone dangling in his hand emits a sigh. “Peter, would you _try_ to focus here? This is kind of important.”

Claude snags the phone from limp fingers and holds it to his ear, saying, “Hey, Nathan? Everything you just said Pete and I already know, so why don’t you bugger off and let us get back to shagging? I’m still discovering how delightfully flexible our Peter is. So long.”

The phone beeps, and Claude levels an evil grin at Peter, who stares at the device like it’s a ticking bomb.

A few seconds pass, and Claude’s grin fades. “I hung up before I said all that, okay? ‘M not that stupid.” A few more seconds, and Claude starts to look truly aggrieved, “I did, honestly! Don’t ya’ believe me?”

Peter gives him an inscrutable look. “I believe you. You think my brother wouldn’t bother calling back if you didn’t?”

Claude rolls his eyes, but lets out a sharp laugh and tightens his hold on Peter. “Bloody Petrellis. Should’ve known what I was in for.”

“Just keeping you on your toes.”

Claude sobers. “Gonna have to be, won’t I? For this next bit.”

“Yeah.” Peter slips out of Claude’s arms and starts gathering his clothes. Nathan’s call has brought the enormity of the situation back to the forefront of his mind- whatever it is that’s going on between him and Claude has got to wait. “So, there’s no way Primatech will take you back and let you in on their plans right away. Got any ideas for getting into their good graces?”

“Sure. I’ll fix their mole problem.”

“Take out Noah Bennet. That could work- they already suspect him.” He pauses, “You’re not going to actually kill him, right?”

Claude smirks. “Tempting, but I hadn’t planned to. We’ll put a call in to big brother, see how he’d like to arrange things.”

“Yeah, okay.” Peter pulls on his shirt and stands facing Claude, hands on his hips and a look of decided resolve on his face.

Claude blinks a few times and smiles ruefully. “And here I was thinkin’ of saying something like, ‘In the meantime, dot dot dot.’ Suppose we had a fun afternoon and now all that’s off the table, then.”

Peter winces, and finds himself shuffling. “Well, I mean, we’ve got a lot to do, right? Now that things are... different... We shouldn’t really be... you know. Not that-”

Claude holds up his hands. “No, no, I see. Always better to know where one stands, wouldn’t you say?” He steps around Peter, snatching up his own clothes.

The empath frowns, trying to figure out how and how badly he managed to mess things up and if he trusts himself to try using words again to fix it, but Claude’s already dialing on his cell phone.

***

The night seems all the darker after the sun-filled California day. This back road out in the hills has no streetlamps, so Peter leaves the headlights on in his rented car. Claude leans against the grill, and Peter hops up to sit on the hood.

Claude feels eyes on him several times for the next twenty minutes or so, but Peter says nothing, so neither does he. At last another pair of headlights appears on the road. “Here they come,” Peter says needlessly. Claude crosses his arms over his chest and thinks of the explosion.

The other car stops and two people climb out- a young, thin woman with dark hair and a middle-aged man of no remarkable description aside from perhaps his old-fashioned horn-rimmed glasses. “Claude,” Noah Bennet says.

Claude gives a short nod. It’s the best he can manage.

Noah shifts his gaze, “Peter, how are things?”

“Fine for us. How about you? What was the situation like at Primatech?”

“Excited enough to let a suspected double agent hear about the reappearance of the infamous invisible man.” He pauses, “Well, I suppose it’s _confirmed_ double agent now.”

“Ruined your reputation well enough before you left?” Claude asks.

Noah looks at him steadily. “You’ll be their knight in shining armor.”

Claude bares his teeth in a grin, “Right then, let’s get started.” He turns to the young woman, “I assume you’re the agent the Company sent along?”

She nods, “That’s right. I’m Candice Wilmer.”

“Cheers. Into the ditch with you then, Bennet.”

Noah steps off the road and clambers into a muddy ditch about four feet away, where he lies down.

Claude glances from Noah to Candice and furrows his brow. “Explain t’me again why a camera should see an illusion.”

She shrugs. “It just does. You want me to do it or not?”

“And make it snappy, would you, Claude?” Noah chimes in. “It’s wet down here.”

Claude moves to snap a retort, or maybe just kill Bennet himself and have done with it once and for all, but he catches a glimpse of Peter’s quickly hidden laughter and contains himself. “Fine, fine,” he grumbles, “Only risking my life here, nothing to get overly concerned about.” He turns to Candice again, “But you’re sure, yeah? They won’t be able to- run it through a scanner or somethin’ an’ tell it’s fake.”

“It hasn’t happened to me yet.”

_Since you look about thirteen years old that doesn’t exactly fill me with confidence_ , Claude doesn’t say. He reminds himself that a person with Candice’s abilities can look however they damn well please. Accessing his ability, he casts a glance at her to see if there is a mask to look under. She’s very good indeed.

Candice inches her way into the ditch and crouches next to Bennet’s prone form. Then she disappears, and an angry red hole appears on Bennet’s forehead. His face is slack and pale, his chest unmoving. Claude holds up his cell phone and takes several pictures. It’s not nearly as satisfying as he imagined it would be. “Okay, all done.”

Candice reappears, already moving away. The corpse of Noah Bennet is replaced by the living man, who also climbs to his feet and out of the ditch. “Claude,” he says.

As much as he’d like not to, he replies, “Yeah?”

“I wanted to thank you, for this.”

Claude frowns, “What do you mean?”

Noah gives a half-smile. “I’m finally getting out. Like Haram. Like you. After what I did- to you, I became the Company’s double agent. And it’s been... as difficult and dangerous as I deserve.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, r-Bennet. Run along now.”

He takes a step away, but Noah holds up a hand, “One more thing. I’d appreciate it if, after all this is done, you could come say hello to Sandra and the kids. Is there a remote chance that would be possible?”

Claude stares at Noah, feeling not a bit like he’s been punched in the gut. When they were partners, Bennet’s family... _was_ Claude’s family, or as close as he knew he’d ever come. How many times did he have to talk himself out of contacting them? _Too many._ “I’ll think about it.”

The smile is wide now, and Noah even goes so far as clapping a hand on Claude’s shoulder, which he stoically endures. Bennet leaves with Candice, their taillights shrinking in the night.


	8. Chapter 8

Two steaming cups of coffee sit on Thompson’s table in the café. Claude sits down as silently as possible, but Thompson still takes out his cell phone and holds it to his ear within thirty seconds.

“They do a great cappuccino here. Go ahead, try it.”

Claude’s hand on the cup makes it invisible. He picks it up and after a moment puts it back down. “Nice.”

“Isn’t it? I think they add cinnamon.”

Claude scowls and holds in an impatient sigh. “So, think I might get to see the clubhouse one of these days, or would that be too forward?”

“I’m pleased to see you so eager, Claude, but you know how it is. We need to be cautious in this day and age.”

Claude gives a small chuckle. “Too right about that.”

Thompson’s smirk dims slightly. “Care to qualify that, Claude?”

“Don’t mind me. Just thinkin’ how you aren’t the only friend from the old days I’ve seen recently.”

Claude can tell Thompson would like to level a penetrating gaze at him. “Noah Bennet didn’t turn up for work this morning.”

“No, he didn’t.”

Claude watches Thompson’s greasy little wheels turn. “Can you name a place he might turn up, then?”

“Maybe a list of John Does, at the police station next county over.” He takes his own cell phone out and slides it across the table. “Here are some photos of our reunion.”

Thompson picks up the phone and flicks through the shots. He could be looking at pictures of clouds for all it shows on his face. “I suppose this wasn’t motivated entirely by revenge, or I’d have my share of it too.”

“I know what I’m about, Eric. Know there’s not too much place in this world for people like me. I should’ve been happy with what I had. Can’t help it, I’m a restless soul.” He gives a winning grin even if it can’t be seen. Actually, though he smiles, Thompson hasn’t looked up from the pictures yet. “So, I thought I might show some appreciation. Take care of a threat.”

“And what made you decide Bennet was a threat?”

“Now, now, can’t give away all my tricks, can I?”

Thompson chuckles, “I’d be shocked if you did.” He finally turns off the phone and passes it back to Claude. “I’m going to go and have a few conversations. How about I meet you back here at five o’clock?”

“Make it six, will ya’?”

A few more chuckles as he stands. “Good to have you back, Claude.”

***

In his hotel room, Peter is being forcibly reminded how much waiting on the sidelines while others take action sucks. He hasn’t felt this unique combination of boredom and anxiety since his rookie days. He jumps when his phone rings, and seriously contemplates not answering when he checks the number. He takes a deep breath, and hits the button. “Hey.”

“What’s happening?” Nathan says.

“Claude’s meeting with Thompson, showing him the pictures. He should be at the park soon.”

“Where is he now? Find him.”

Peter frowns at the command, but closes his eyes and _looks_... and finds nothing. A block of ice falls into his stomach. There’s only one reason why he wouldn’t be able to find Claude: there isn’t a Claude to find. “I, uh...”

“Come on, Peter, we don’t have time for this. Where am I?”

“You? Okay, uh...” He looks- and still finds nothing. “Oh shit...”

“What do you mean ‘oh shit?’ What’s going on over there?”

“I don’t have it. I don’t have the finding ability.”

“Are you kidding me? How could-? Look, okay, what _do_ you have, if not that?”

Peter lifts his hand and stares at the palm. He focuses, and it fades. “... Invisibility?” He can’t believe he was so careless. Though he can’t quite bring himself to feel bad about sleeping with Claude, he should’ve at least realized that this might happen.

“Great. That’s great, Pete. Good luck keeping track of him if he runs.”

“He’s not going to run,” Peter automatically snaps.

“You sound pretty sure of that. I’d like to see your proof. Was it the way he demanded a less experienced agent as his partner? Or maybe- what was his line? ‘Once I’m outside the blast radius, this isn’t my concern’?”

“Nathan, you don’t know-”

“No, now that I think about it, he agreed pretty damn quick to going back to Primatech and offering to become their agent again. If you had your finding ability, you might’ve been able to tell if he was coming to the hotel with Thompson and a whole pack of Primatech agents to come collect you. I bet it’d look even better than taking Bennet out, bringing you b-”

“Nathan, that’s enough! Claude hasn’t done anything you and the others haven’t asked him to do, okay? So just back off.”

There’s a long pause. “Look, all I’m saying is keep your eyes _open_ , Pete. You don’t know this guy, nobody does. But unfortunately he’s our only hope of dealing with this situation, and _somehow_ he seems to respond to you. Just be careful.”

Peter closes his eyes, the hint of true fraternal concern more painful than comforting for its parsimony. “I’ll be fine.”

“Okay. Keep me in the loop.”

“You got it.” He hangs up, heart heavy because as much as he can’t be sorry for getting closer to Claude, he can’t _stay_ that close. There’s far too much at stake.

He goes to the park to wait. He stays invisible, figuring he might as well. When he spots Claude from his seat on a bench, he feels a thrill of accomplishment under the relief as the man walks right past him. “Over here.”

Claude turns back with a half-smile and sits beside him. “Didn’t see ya’, mate.”

“Yeah,” Peter replies. He swallows the truth, and the guilt that follows. “How’d it go?”

“It went right well. I’d almost be suspicious if I didn’t know what they’ve got going on. Broadly, anyway,” he winks at Peter, who smiles. “So, I’ve another date with Thompson at six, and I think _this_ time, I’ll actually get somewhere.”

“That’s great, Claude.”

Silence descends. It’s another sunny day in Costa Verde, and the sounds of a busy playground elsewhere in the park drift on the air. Though he wracks his brain, Peter can’t think of anything else to say. He hates the growing unease in his gut as Nathan’s words cycle through his thoughts. He can’t deny the truth in them. Guilt and sadness so thoroughly capture his attention he almost misses Claude’s quiet, “You okay, Pete?”

“Oh, uh, yeah. Everything’s... going pretty well, right? Considering.”

“Is it backin’ up on you, what happened last year?”

Peter gets the strangest urge to smile at the question. No one who knows about his abduction would ever ask that question so bluntly. Just Claude. “Not... not really. Not like I expected it would.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m more worried about you, I guess.” It’s not until he says it that he realizes it’s true.

Claude sighs and leans back against the bench, draping his arms across it. “Well, I won’t lie. Would’ve rather snuck in and got what we needed myself, not made kissy face with my would-be murderers. But it’s the way it is, and if I can get out of it alive, well, the look on their faces back at the Company’ll be priceless, don’t ya’ think?”

A laugh bubbles up from Peter, and he looks over at Claude, who’s grinning that wicked grin of his that Peter just can’t help staring at. He leans back as well, and in that moment can’t believe a word of what Nathan said. It’s the easiest thing in the world to press his mouth to Claude’s in a brief kiss.

Claude gives an almost silent hum, “I thought I’d seen the last of those.”

Peter retreats with a frown, desperately hanging on to that feeling of peace, even as it’s trampled beneath all the rest. “Claude, I’m... I’m trying to do this right.”

“Then do it right. No one’s stopping you, Pete. I’m not... asking for anything you don’t want to give. In fact, the only thing I need from you is...”

Peter’s been glaring into his lap for the past few moments, but he looks at Claude now. “What?”

By contrast, Claude glares out into the sunshine, his profile hawk-like and angular. “Just believe- believe in me.” His eyes dart to Peter, and there’s a vulnerability in his gaze that makes the empath’s heart ache. “Can you do that?”

It kills Peter that he can’t say the “yes” that takes half a second to rise in his throat. “I want to,” he manages.

Claude’s face shutters. His gaze falls. The moment is painfully silent before he mutters, “Made a proper mess of you, didn’t they?”

“... Primatech?”

His gaze lifts up to the sky. “And the Company- the whole lot of ‘em. I should know, we can smell our own.”

Peter has to look away, brace his hands on his knees and take a breath. “Claude, I’m here for you as long as you’re here for me. That’s the best I’ve got.”

“Right then.” Claude stands. As he walks away, he says over his shoulder, “If you don’t find me here before nine, don’t wait up.”

Peter puts his face in his hands.


	9. Chapter 9

Claude walks in step with Thompson as they make their way through the parking lot of Primatech’s headquarters.

“You know you can go visible anytime.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Okay, well, don’t blame me if introductions are a bit awkward.”

“Got a lot of new recruits?”

“Oh, a few, here and there. Young people today are so ambitious. And then there are the ones we bring in ourselves- every so often they like what they see.”

Claude’s skin crawls. _Good old Primatech._ It’s all he can do to keep his breathing steady as they make their way inside the building. He clings to his seven years of complete social isolation if only to keep his mind in the present. He thinks of Haram, and the iron need to know what happened to his closest friend. In his mind’s eye he sees the painting of New York City on the verge of cataclysmic destruction. And Peter’s waiting for him.

“Still being bashful, Claude?” a cultured voice says from behind them. Claude turns to find Daniel Linderman standing with his snowy eyebrows raised. “Come now,” the man continues, “let’s have a look at you at last.”

It takes an actual effort for Claude to take down his shield. He reminds himself that he’s supposed to _want_ to be here, and tries to dig up a cheeky smirk for Linderman to see.

The older man smiles, “Ah, there we are. You know we were all terribly surprised when Mr. Thompson shared the news that you were in town. That you were _anywhere_ , in fact.”

Claude shrugs, “Bad penny, I suppose.”

Linderman nods and hums, “Indeed. Well, if you would come this way, there are some things Arthur would like to discuss with you.” He turns and walks away with a casual “come along” gesture of his hand. Claude follows him, after sharing a glance with Thompson, who sketches a salute and goes his own way.

Linderman leads Claude to an office in which Arthur Petrelli waits with what has to be Claude’s file on his desk. His green-brown eyes watch as he takes a seat, expression completely blank. “Claude Rains,” he says, “I don’t think we got the chance to properly meet, way back when.”

He extends a hand, and Claude’s breath catches momentarily. Every instinct he has screams not to touch the ability thief. Trying to believe he would be no good to them without his ability, he reaches out and shakes Arthur’s hand, and feels no different when he lets go.

Arthur’s gaze turns to the file. “I’d say the only thing stranger than your being alive, Mr. Rains, are the sentiments you’ve expressed to Eric Thompson. I hope he was correct in his interpretation of those sentiments- that you’d like to become an agent again.”

“Yes, he is.”

Arthur’s face creases in a smile and soft chuckle. “Well, allow me to ask the obvious question then- why? Seven years ago, you made your opposition of our practices so blatant it was necessary to have you killed. Can you explain what’s inspired this change of heart?”

Claude’s never been so grateful for his invisible thoughts as the words _A night of too many piss-poor American beers and your youngest son_ echo around his head. “Call it a rebellious phase. I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ve nothing better to do with my life than work for you.” He caps his performance with another half-smirk and shrug.

Arthur looks as if Claude is an odd new species he’s never encountered before. Claude maintains eye contact. Arthur looks down, “Mister Rains, I’ve always believed action speaks louder than words. As such, I have an assignment for you.”

“Yeah?”

“You correctly identified Noah Bennet as a threat to our operation, and eliminated him. Naturally I appreciate the gesture, but I’m curious- did you know _how_ Mister Bennet had lost his integrity with us?”

“Not the details, no.”

“Do you recall that he was made the guardian of an infant born to a pyrokinetic?”

“Yeah, I do,” Claude replies mildly as panic alarms sound within.

“Her ability has manifested, and Bennet was going against his orders and hiding her from us. Now that he’s dead, she must be brought in for examination. That’s your assignment. Understand?”

“Sure. Where can I find her?”

Arthur stands. “Go out to the main lobby. Your partner will fill you in on the details.”

Claude follows him out of the conference room, a litany of swears filling his head. To avoid casting suspicion on Claude’s cover, the Company hasn’t evacuated the Bennets yet. He honestly doesn’t know if they value his assignment over Claire Bennet’s freedom, if they’ll let him hand her over to the nightmarish Research Division to secure his place at Primatech. _Christ, Claire..._ The memory of a brilliant gap-toothed smile surrounded by golden curls flares in Claude’s head. Noah’s family _was_ his family. He can’t do this.

Seeing his partner only makes things worse. Elle Bishop grins at him, and he tries not to see the sad broken girl he remembers. “So you’re back from the dead, huh?” she inquires, snapping bubble gum.

“Y’could say that.”

“Nice accent,” she giggles and flits out to a car. He trudges after her. “Okay,” Elle says when they’re on the road, “Claire’s at cheerleading practice. It’ll end in about twenty minutes, we can grab her on her way home.”

“You’ve been doing surveillance?”

“Yeah, from the _inside_. High school sucks, but you gotta start somewhere, right? That’s what Dad says.”

“She doesn’t know what’s happened to her f- to Bennet?”

“Nope. I think Mrs. Bennet called around noon, asking if he was at the office. Boy is _she_ in for a surprise.” Elle laughs, and Claude feels sick. This is everything he hated about being an agent, only a hundred times worse. He wonders if Peter knows where he is, if he’s trying to figure out why Claude’s headed for Costa Verde High School. He isn’t sure if he wants Peter to show up or not.

_Some Company agent has to be watching her by now_ , he decides. _Primatech knows Bennet went to the Company, they won’t be surprised if an agent is protecting Claire._ That could work. It wouldn’t even be a lie- he can’t go after the girl without attracting the Company’s attention. However, the Claude Rains he’s pretending to be doesn’t know to fear Company agents. He’ll have to tip off Elle to Claire’s tail somehow. They can bolt back to Primatech and Claude can prove himself some other way. And, just maybe, he can get this job back on bloody track.

They park in the far corner of the school’s lot. Elle goes to the trunk and fetches a large, trendy-looking purse. “The sedation kit fits in here like a dream,” she remarks before walking back and twining her arms around one of Claude’s. “We’re invisible already, aren’t we?” she murmurs in his ear.

He does his best not to cringe. “Yeah.”

“That’s so cool.” Elle leads him at a strolling pace up to the edge of the football field where the cheerleading squad is practicing. After a minute or two the coach blows a whistle and dismisses the squad. The cheerleaders begin gathering their things, collecting in groups to chat. “That’s her,” Elle says, nodding toward one girl who has sat down on the bleachers.

Her hair is long, not as curly as Claude remembers it. She’s not smiling, her body is tense. It’s a simple matter of tracking her nervous glance to the Company agent protecting her. _The Haitian, naturally_ , Claude thinks when he spots the man sitting on a sidewalk bench with a newspaper. Of course Bennet would only accept the best. Claude hopes he’s good enough to make this work.

He turns to Elle, “Okay, here’s how it’ll be. I take the sedation kit, grab her, and carry her out once she’s under. You bring the car around, I load her in, and we’re done. Clear?”

“No!” Elle cries, “All I do is go get the car? Listen, I need to be in on this or I’ll be stuck in Breakfast Club hell forever!”

“Sorry, princess, but this is quite literally my ticket into Primatech, an’ I won’t let some wide-eyed rookie fuck it up, okay? Now get to the car before you’re seen.” He pulls the purse from her grip, and though he can feel her furious glare dig into his back, he walks away.

He knows he can’t have more than five minutes before Elle starts getting suspicious, so he makes do with detouring to squeeze the Haitian’s shoulder on his way to the football field. He crosses over to the bleachers, where, luckily, Claire still sits on her own.

Nearly all of the other cheerleaders have left, and none are paying attention to Claire. Claude steps silently onto the bleachers, moving to her side one row back. He puts a hand on her shoulder as he says, “Don’t move, Claire.”

She stiffens, but does as instructed. “... Claude?”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and smiles, “Yeah, it’s me. Sorry for the theatrics. We’re invisible now- you can turn around.”

She does, and her smile is a pure ray of sunshine. “Oh my god,” she breathes. “This is so weird.”

Claude chuckles, “Don’t I know it.” He sobers, “Y’have to listen now. Do you know what’s happening with your dad?”

A complicated expression comes to her face. “Well, it’s been a lot to process. Primatech- the company he works for- it’s some kind of front for... human experimentation or something? I don’t know. And you- you’re trying to stop them, right?”

He nods, “That’s about it, yeah. And to do that, I’m trying to get them to think I’m on their side. To do _that_... I’ve been told to bring you to them. I won’t,” he continues as her eyes widen with alarm, “I never would, but we’ve got to arrange it so it looks like I _tried_. Understand?”

She blinks a few times, but also nods, “I- I guess so.”

Claude takes a breath, “Good. Now, I saw the agent watching you, the Haitian-”

“You mean René?”

It’s Claude’s turn to blink. “Is that his name? You learn something new...” Keeping a gentle hold on Claire’s arm, they stand and start walking as he says, “What I’m thinkin’ should happen is that René can intercept us on the way to my car. He wipes my brain, and I run back to Primatech with my tail between my legs and you safe and sound. Make sense?”

She shrugs. “Close enough.”

Once clear of the bleachers, Claude looks to see the sidewalk bench is empty. “Where are you supposed to meet René if things go wrong?”

“Over here,” she says, leading him away from the football field to the school itself. They turn the corner at the gym, and Claude spots René waiting. He turns them both visible.

“Primatech sent me to capture her,” he says, “Some stupid initiation ritual of theirs. Tell whoever’s taking care of it at the Company that the Bennets need to be relocated _now_.” René nods. “Claire?”

She turns to him with a small smile that brings the same to his face.

“Good to see you, love. Stay safe for me, will ya’?”

Claire throws her arms around him in a tight hug, “Wherever we end up, you have to come visit, okay? Don’t disappear again. Promise.”

“I promise.” He takes another breath, and looks to René, “Make me forget I saw her.”

His long-fingered hand rises to cover Claude’s eyes, just as a sharp voice rings out, “HEY!”

Claude and Claire spring apart, and René is already tugging her away as Elle strides toward them with sparks gathering in her hands. “Go!” Claude shouts at them, “Both of you- _run_!” He promptly follows his own advice, going invisible and sprinting down alongside the gym.

He expects Elle to go after Claire, and René to stop her. So he’s very surprised indeed when he makes it five steps before a searing pain strikes him and his vision goes blue-white. Then black.


	10. Chapter 10

Peter makes it to half-past seven before the worry that he might miss Claude drives him back out to the park.

He’s still kicking himself for losing the finding ability when he makes it to the bench and sees René waiting instead of Claude. Seeing the look on the man’s face sends a terrible numbness spreading through Peter as he slows to a halt. “... René? What are you doing here?”

“The Company sent me to guard Claire Bennet,” he says in his soft, accented voice. “Primatech instructed Claude Rains to kidnap her to prove his loyalty. In the course of protecting her, his true motivations were exposed. I believe he has fled.”

Peter can only stare at him for a moment. “You- you _believe_. You don’t know?”

René considers this, and shakes his head. However, his expression tells Peter that his belief is backed by strong evidence.

“Claire’s safe, right?”

He nods. “Her family will be evacuated tonight.”

“Okay...” Peter looks away, mind scrambling to come to grips with the situation.

“Come with me, Peter.”

“No,” he says, turning back to René. “He might come back, he... We don’t know what happened to him. I’m his partner- I can’t leave.”

“Peter, the Company must decide a new plan for your assignment.”

“And we’ve been saying this whole time that we need Claude to complete the assignment. So, I’m gonna find him.”

René watches him silently, and Peter prays he doesn’t ask where Claude is right now. Instead, he says, “I suggest calling your brother.” Then, with the slightest hint of a smile, “But not right away.”

Peter watches him walk off, wondering if anyone would ever figure the Haitian out. Then he sits down on the bench and tries to think of a productive way to channel his growing panic. _He wouldn’t just run. He would come find me and tell me what happened._

Peter sighs, already he’s basing his assumptions on optimism instead of fact. But he has precious few facts to use. Claude’s cover is blown, so there’s no way for him to even try to continue the job, unless he’s gone back to the previous plan of infiltrating Primatech covertly, which would be insane. And anyway, if that was the case, Peter feels in his gut that Claude would have come to tell him.

Peter goes back to his hotel to see if Claude’s waiting for him there. After a little while with no sign, anxiety carries him back to the park. This process continues over the next few hours. Every time his mind whispers that this is all just proof that Claude has cut ties and bolted, Peter feels a fresh surge of certainty that the man wouldn’t _do_ that, not to him. And then there’s the other thought, the one that chokes Peter’s breath and chills his heart. By midnight, sitting in his empty hotel room, Peter finally starts to accept that it might be true.

Claude didn’t escape. He’s been captured. Peter picks up his cell phone.

Nathan answers on the first ring, “Peter, are you with René?”

“No.”

“Why not? We have to regroup now that Claude’s gone. You have t-”

“Nathan.”

“What?”

“You think Claude ran?”

“Well of course he ran, Peter. His cover was blown, what possible reason could he have to stick around?”

“... I don’t think he ran, Nathan. I think he was captured.”

There’s a pause, and Peter winces as his brother asks the obvious question, “Okay, what’s your proof?”

“I know René saw him run, but he didn’t see him escape. And, well...”

“Oh let me guess,” Nathan says. “You don’t think he would leave without saying goodbye? That’s absurd and you know it.”

Anger surges up sharp, “Claude’s my _partner_ , Nathan! He said so himself. He _wouldn’t_ just _run_. There has to be a reason he didn’t come back and I...”

“Pete, listen-”

“I’m going to find him. I’m going to Primatech. I have the invisibility- if Claude could do it, so can I.”

“Peter, are you hearing yourself? This is nuts! You’re going on a suicide mission based on nothing more than wishful thinking!”

“I’m doing this with or without your help, Nathan. It’s your choice.”

“I am not going to risk other agents’ _lives_ so you can indulge a fantasy. Don’t you remember what it was like last year? Do you really want to go through that again?”

Fear floods through Peter’s anger so quickly he almost gasps. He could shut his eyes and see the cell walls again, feel his helplessness. He swallows hard. “No, I don’t.”

He hears Nathan sigh, “Exactly. Thank god we got that set-”

“So I better not get caught.” Peter hangs up, and turns off the phone. Sits on the bed rocked with a feeling of what he knows is pure adolescent rebellion. It doesn’t make it any less sweet. “I’m coming, Claude.”


	11. Chapter 11

Claude thinks he might be whimpering. He tries to stop, but his head... It’s like it’s been hit with a hammer dipped in acid.

The ringing in his right ear is the loudest thing he’s ever heard, and he can’t get away from it. He can barely move at all. He cracks his eyes open, and feels a stab of fresh panic. There’s something wrong with his vision. A few highly tentative experiments tell him it’s his right eye that’s been damaged, the view gone foggy. But not foggy enough to completely obscure the man sitting beside him.

“She packs quite a wallop, doesn’t she?” Thompson inquires, voice considerately raised over the ringing. “You’re lucky- caught a glancing blow, just a punctured eardrum and a bleeding retina.”

Claude tries to turn his head, and bites back a cry.

“Oh, and a second degree burn, that too. Ouch. Hope you didn’t like that haircut.”

Claude has established that he’s in some medical ward, but he’d be shocked if it was a hospital. No, he might as well come to terms with it now. This is Primatech, he’s their prisoner. It’s all over. “You didn’t... you didn’t get Claire... did you.”

He almost thinks he sees the smile slide off Thompson’s face. Maybe it’s just a trick of the hemorrhage. “No, as a matter of fact.” He sighs and shakes his head, “Claude. How could you do that to me? You made me look like a fool.”

“Wasn’t hard.”

“Now that’s just rude. But I suppose I’ll forgive you. I mean, it’s the least I can do considering what you’ve got coming.”

Claude breathes out slowly through his nose. He won’t rise to the bait, as if he needs to. They were going to dissect Claire, find out her secrets. Claude didn’t save her, he took her place.

“In the meantime,” Thompson continues as he stands, “We’ll let you rest up. Research doesn’t like broken toys.”

He leaves and Claude rolls his eyes. _If I’m going to be subjected to more lines like that I might as well top myself at the first opportunity._ Bad joke accomplished, he settles back to see if Peter cares enough to call in the Company and save his sorry arse. He thinks he does. Claude shuts his eyes to wait, and the sleep of the adrenaline-crashed quickly claims him.

He grimaces and cringes away from a hand shaking his arm, sending shudders through his whole misused body. “Get off me...”

“Claude Rains,” says a young, unfamiliar voice. Claude opens his eyes to find an Asian man peering at him. The man smiles, “You’re awake.”

It takes Claude a few seconds to recognize the Japanese words and respond in kind, “I do not think I am.”

The stranger frowns in confusion, but says, “I’m Nakamura Hiro.”

“Nakamura...? Did you come from the Company?” It’s not much of a rescue team, but Claude won’t complain...

Hiro nods, “I have a message for you.”

Claude tries to sit up, “A message? You are not freeing me?”

Hiro shakes his head, again with a faint look of confusion. “Your assignment isn’t finished. I was sent with information to help you. From Nathan Petrelli, a month from now.”

“A month-?” Claude sags. In English he says, “You’re a bloody time-traveler. Fan _tas_ tic. Only thing worse than precogs.”

“Nathan Petrelli says you must find Ted Sprague. He’s very important to Primatech’s plan to destroy New York.”

“How? Will he sell a bomb to them? Or make it?”

Another head-shake, “He _is_ the bomb.”

That brings Claude up short. “So they have locked him away, waiting for the right time.”

“Level five, Research Division.”

“And I have to free him alone.”

Hiro frowns. “No-” he begins, but the door starts to open. Hiro’s gone in the blink of an eye.

Thompson marches into the room, and he’s definitely not smiling as the door swings shut behind him. “Where is he? This room has a security camera- we saw Nakamura. What did he tell you?”

Claude shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine. My Japanese is a little rusty, an’ you might recall I was already hearin’ it through a punctured eardrum.”

The grin returns in a sarcastic rictus, “Sure, okay. Whatever he said, it doesn’t matter. You’re going down to Research, and you’re never coming back. They’re going to take you apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left. I’ll make sure of it. I’ll-”

Thompson suddenly lurches sideways and vanishes. Claude starts and wonders for a second if Hiro didn’t somehow teleport him elsewhere, until he hears grunts of effort and sees medical equipment against the wall shudder from an unseen impact. He focuses his ability through his damaged vision and tries not to show the camera the happy shock he feels on seeing an invisible Peter wrestling Thompson into a blind corner. Peter has his hand clamped over the man’s mouth as a gun jammed in his side keeps the rest of him from causing too much trouble.

“Hi, Mister Thompson,” Peter says calmly. “Let’s keep this simple- if you don’t want to die, stay still and stay quiet. Can you do that?”

Thompson’s face has gone red with rage, but he eventually stops struggling against Peter’s grip.

“Great, I’m glad we could work that out.” Peter keeps hold of Thompson, but looks to Claude. “Are you okay?”

“Could be worse. I took a bolt of electricity to the head, so my vision and hearing are about fifty percent on the right side.”

“Got it. Let’s go get you some real medical attention. Mister Thompson, you’ll be leading the way-”

“Wait, Pete, we can’t leave yet,” Claude says.

The empath’s brow furrows. “What do you mean? We have to. I’m sure _someone_ will realize something’s up any minute now. I’m not even supposed to _be_ here. Nathan told me-”

“Yeah, well Nathan told _me_ we need to get down to level five and spring a man named Ted Sprague.”

Both Peter and Thompson stare at him in different shades of surprise. The former seems to pick up on the latter’s extra tension. “He’s involved with the explosion?”

“He _is_ the explosion. Some bad ability- either naturally that powerful or made that way by these lunatics. Job’s not over yet, mate.”

With a muffled exclamation Thompson renews his struggle against Peter, who holds tight and says, “Okay, that’s enough. Change of plans. You’re not taking us out of here, you’re taking us to level five first. Or I’ll shoot you, which I’ll also do if you make any trouble or tip anyone off on the way there. Understand?”

Thompson gives a stone-faced nod.

They end up walking down the halls of Primatech with loose handcuffs around Claude’s wrists and a bag over his head, and Peter’s gun pressed firmly against Thompson’s spine. Claude listens as best he can to the world beyond the white fabric and hears no sign that Peter has been detected. They enter an elevator and begin the descent to level five.

“You know, your father only ever wanted the best for you, Peter,” Thompson remarks.

“Just take us to Ted Sprague,” Peter grinds out. Claude tries to put aside the flash of worry he feels. Peter will either get through this or he won’t- Claude has to focus on his own actions.

The lowest level of Primatech is cold, and Claude finds the irony in this hellish place. Thompson leads them down a long hallway and into a room. Claude hears a confused voice say, “Mister Thompson-?” before he goes invisible, slips out of the handcuffs, and pulls the bag off of his head.

He’s in one of Research Division’s examination rooms, which is already occupied by two lab techs and an unconscious man lying on a table, wired to four separate machines that stand near his head. Claude is in motion before the lab techs can do anything but jump in surprise. He’s not at his best with half his vision telling him the room is filled with fog, but these techs are no agents and he takes them down without extraordinary effort.

Peter passes him the gun so he can keep it trained on Thompson while the empath goes to Sprague’s side. He quickly but carefully removes the wires connecting Sprague to the machines. Claude keeps his attention on Thompson, but can make out the soft sounds of conversation- one half bewildered and frightened, the other reassuring- as Sprague wakes up and Peter explains the situation.

“He- he’s one of them?” Sprague says, and there’s a dark anger in his voice that draws Claude’s gaze. He’s sitting up on the table, with a murderous glare directed straight at Thompson. As Claude watches, Sprague’s hands start to glow with a bright white light edged in orange and red.

“Ted- Ted, listen,” Peter says, putting his hands on the other man’s shoulders. “You have to calm down. You have to stay calm so we can get you out of here. Please.”

Sprague’s eyes close and he seems to be pulling his ability back in check as the light drains from his hands. Claude breathes out again.

“That’s great, Ted, perfect. Thank you. Okay, let’s get you off this thing and get moving.”

It’s easier said than done. Sprague must have been in captivity for a while, and unconscious for most of it. He needs Peter to support him as he climbs off the table and takes a few ginger steps. Claude grips Thompson’s shoulder, making them invisible as they turn around to leave. “We’ll get out of your hair now, mate, just as soon as you walk us to the door.”

All four of them are invisible now as they move through Primatech at a pace Sprague can handle. Primatech never kept regular office hours, agents come and go as their individual assignments dictate, but the building is still more active during the day. Claude’s glad it’s past midnight now, when anyone who is awake most likely has something more important to think about than the unexpected breeze that passes them in the hallway.

Claude feels Thompson looking at him on their way out, and finds himself wondering if the man really is hurt by his second betrayal. _Stranger things have happened. But somehow I don’t think the dissection he promised is the fitting punishment._

They reach the front door, and Claude nudges Thompson’s back with the gun when he hesitates to go through it. “Nearly there, Eric, nearly there.”

“You might as well shoot me now, Claude. I will come after you for this. I’ll come after you, and I’ll find you. You never should’ve shown your face, now you’ve got nowhere to hide. You’ll see how Primatech deals with traitors-”

“You first.” Claude shoves Thompson away from him and pockets the gun, turning visible to say, “Thanks for all your help, Eric, you’ve been brilliant. We’ll be on our way now.”

He spins on his heel to follow Peter and Ted into the waiting car that has René behind the wheel, leaving Thompson to explain himself to Primatech.


	12. Chapter 12

The doctors have to shave Claude’s head to treat his burn. They say his eardrum and retina will heal on their own, that he’ll be fine in a couple of months. After their debriefing, Peter finds him sitting out on the stone bench in Kirby Plaza.

“Well that was fun,” Peter says, sitting beside him.

Claude cracks a smile. “Yeah. You’d think the words were poison, them saying we did good.”

“Yeah...” Peter thinks back to Nathan’s face, the respect lurking below the surface. He didn’t seem all that surprised to find out that in a month he’ll be telling Hiro the information that saves Peter and Claude’s assignment, as well as New York City. “So, what now?”

Claude is silent for a beat, then sighs deeply. “Well, I’ve a bad eye and ear to see to now. And Primatech knows I’m alive again. Not just alive- but a bloody great nuisance as well.”

A pit opens in Peter’s stomach. He swallows, waits for the inevitable.

“So, I’m thinking we’ll need some time off before the next job, yeah?”

Peter meets Claude’s look of gentle inquiry with wide-eyed shock. “What?”

“The next job,” Claude repeats. “Or was I not there when you found out what happened to Haram?”

“Uh, no- no, I still don’t know...”

“Right, well, I’d like to get back in good health, maybe let Primatech’s memory grow a little long. And I’m certainly not having my partner run off without me. If Primatech’s not pleased with me, they’re _furious_ with you, mate. That’s a fact.”

“But- you’re staying?” Peter blurts out. “I thought- I mean, you got captured. You almost got sent to Research Division.”

“Didn’t though, and whose fault is that?” Claude’s smiling, and Peter has to look away to try to get the absurd heat to leave his cheeks. “But I _would’ve_ , if you didn’t know I’d been caught.”

“I didn’t.”

“No?”

Peter’s gaze returns to Claude’s face. Indulges in skimming over his features. “René didn’t see you get captured. He just saw you run. But when you didn’t come back to the park or the hotel, I thought Primatech might’ve got you. Because I’m your partner, and I didn’t believe you would run. Because,” he falters, “because...”

Claude takes pity on him with a small smile and a hand on his cheek guiding their mouths together for a long soft moment. A warm peace fills Peter’s heart.

“So,” he says after they separate and he rediscovers language, “This break you mentioned. Any specific ideas about where we should take it?”

“Anywhere we want.”

Peter grins, “Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”


End file.
